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colderdrafts · 1 year ago

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11 - Birds of a feather

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. First Previous Next

The weaver sits in a corner of an empty room, covering the empty spaces between the walls bit by bit. The slow process is repetitive and maddening, seemingly without purpose. Trying to finish a canvas that can’t be completed. Something to pass the time.

Time that has and will continue to stretch, seemingly forever.

You find it’s very cold here. Cold and stale, a stench of decay hanging in the air, accompanied by a metallic scent of blood. Still, this is what they know. This is the only thing they have known.

Perhaps removing the corpses littering the room could help? a thought pops into your mind. You glance around and, surely enough, find them lying haphazardly in the dirt, limbs twisted in wrong directions and unmistakable crimson splattered across the ground. Some of the them have fur, some of them don’t. How odd.

Your hands come into view. Right, you still have hands. You can do things with them. The weaver in the corner patiently watches to see what you’ll use them for.

You lean down, and grab the ankles of one of the corpses. The potent stench is almost enough to make you gag as you start slowly pulling it out of the cave.

Do you ever clean up after yourself? you ask mentally.

No one responds.

Click-click-click-click – there’s a noise of movement somewhere nearby, and you look up to find the weaver is gone. They do that sometimes.

You focus on your task of getting the smelly item out of your home. This is your home, right? Right. You think so. So you should probably keep it clean.

So you pull with all your might. The corpse starts falling apart a little bit, limbs so torn and fragile it’s difficult for the body to keep itself together. You can feel it staring at you with lifeless eyes, but you don’t worry too much about that.

How troublesome. Is their right leg in the hand it’s supposed to be in from this angle? Do humanoids usually have so many of them? You’ll have to pick that finger up later. Annoying, but that’s just how these things go sometimes.

You pull it fully outside, and drag the mangled corpse towards the river. That river has always been there, and has always been a good way to get rid of filth. There’s already a corpse in there, stuck on the bank. That one was drowned. How considerate. That way, you don’t have to bother dragging them.

With a last push, you tumble the corpse into the flowing, dark water. The splash seems oddly dulled to you, not leaving any water droplets in the air like it should. It’s like the river is just a gullet that swallowed it whole.

Very good, the weaver purrs from somewhere behind you. Very, very good.

You watch the corpse calmly flowing down the river, bobbing up and down like the depths can’t decide if it should keep it or not. A surge of pride fills you. You did the right thing.

A hand finds the nape of your neck and rests there, a thumb brushing gently over the side of your throat. A shadow looms over you as a large body slowly starts curling around you. You let it. You can trust it won’t strangle you.

It’s important we throw out what we don’t need, even if it’s scary, the weaver whispers. We’ll feel so much better once we do.

Where is this? you ask, staring at the river. Suddenly you find you’re not sure.

It’s a home, the weaver gently reminds you. Your home.

As promised, standing tall and loudly colored in red, sticking out like a sore thumb, is a large tent smack in the middle of the marketplace.

The common-folk booths you’ve visited previously have been moved around to make space for it, stacking closer together. Still, the patrons you're familiar with don’t seem particularly bothered this massive structure has appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

You re-adjust the satchel at your side, taking some time to balk at the impressive sight. It’s still early, the noises of idle conversation and the smell of freshly baked bread filling the space.

This is it. Supposedly the place where you will finally figure out a way to get home.

Dren and his eggs are with you, the latter safely tucked beneath his abdomen. It’s been a busy morning preparing for this last stretch of your adventure. You're exhausted from a sleepless night full of strange dreams you can’t remember, missing a touch of caffeine to ease your troubles. But you're on the doorstep of answers, and you're not turning back now.

Dren glances down at you, a silent question. You nod. You're ready.

He quietly reaches over you to open the tent (making the opening big enough to fit both of you) and steps with you inside.

You're met with a burst of stale, hot air, dry and dusty like a desert, a startling change from the cool humidity outside. It almost makes you sneeze.

You’re distracted as the inside of the tent immediately demands your full attention.

The exterior gave you an inkling to the sheer mass of the structure, but it didn’t do the interior justice. The harpy's tent is huge. All around you are rows upon rows of shelves, full of all sorts books and gimmicks in all colors of the rainbow, none of which you can pinpoint any particular use for. The shelves are generously spaced from each other, which is probably customary to accommodate bigger species like Dren, you'd assume. Crystals and gems are faintly glinting in the lantern lights dangling from the ceiling posts, herbs and spices you don’t recognize placed on the rows, closely stacked to make room for them all.

At another time, this would be a place you could spend hours walking about slowly to investigate, just taking in everything. You almost get lost in the shelves, the sound of Dren’s steps on your heel as you browse.

"This is incredible," you whisper to him, your hand absentmindedly coming to rest on his front leg. "Look at all this stuff!"

Dren hums an affirmation, but seems more occupied with tracking your surroundings. Particularly, it seems he’s looking to the ceiling.

“Something wrong?” you ask him, following his eye.

“The lanterns are too close to the wooden posts,” is his curt reply. “It’s a fire waiting to happen.”

You suppress a laugh, and continue your browsing.

Eventually, you come across what is probably supposed to be a counter – it’s hard to tell with all the tools, books, fabrics and more that’s stacked on top of it - at the back of the tent.

You clear your throat. “Hell-?”

A feather-covered face with a large hooked nose peeks out from behind a stack of books on the counter. Pupils set in yellow eyes visibly dilate as she smiles at the sight of you.

"Hello, hello, hello! So rare to see your sort! How exciting!" her melodic voice echoes through the room, speaking in a stuttering rapid fire.

The patron straightens up and steps into full view. Pale, patterned wings are in place of regular arms with claws on the ends, and she walks on feet like a bird’s. This must be the harpy the barkeep told you about.

She seems giddy as you step closer, and she looks behind you to stare at Dren. A subtle grumbling chitter emanates from him at the sudden attention.

"Well, well!" the harpy grins at him. "You scaries never shop in here, no. Never wants to talk to me!"

Dren shakes his head, stepping a little closer to you. "I didn't know you were here, and I've had no need of your wares."

The harpy pouts at him, but then focuses back on you, curious. "Ah, but your human does, does it?"

You stare at her for a beat, startled she actually called you 'human'. Dren seems taken aback as well, and the harpy grins at your shared confusion.

"It's probably not obvious you're 'not from around here' to anyone who doesn't know magic stuff," she leans in close, mock-whispering. "Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone!"

You look back to Dren, who just shrugs, bewildered.

"I need some advice," you start, turning back to her.

"That much is clear," the harpy eagerly nods, pointing at you. "You’re messed up! Something is absolutely wrong with you! But what will you be paying?"

You resist scoffing at the rude remark, and reach into your satchel to pull out some crystals. The harpy puts up a clawed finger to stop you. Her wing knocks a spoon off the counter with the movement.

"Nope! Not interested in those useless blue deal-crashers!" she states, shooing at your hand like trying to get it to back away from the satchel.

"Then what do you want?" you ask cautiously, withdrawing it.

"Something for the same thing," she smiles broadly. "Knowledge for knowledge! I'll share what I know, and you'll answer my questions about the human world. Easy!"

Easy?

You look at her for a second, weighing your options. You have been warned that knowledge sharing can come back to bite you in the ass. You're not too sure what she plans to gain with that information.

On the other hand, if she’s someone who deals with magic and knows about humans, she might just be genuinely curious what a human could tell her. This might be a once in a lifetime opportunity for her.

Still, if that's the only thing that can give you some direction on your personal struggles, perhaps that's the price you will have to pay.

"Fine," you agree. "It's a deal."

The harpy beams. "Great! Equal trade! And you’re so polite, wow. Alright, let's get dealing. I'll even let you go first. What do you want to know?"

"How to get back to my own world," you say quite flatly. "And how I got here."

"That's two things," the harpy muses. "Anything else?"

You think for a second. "Are there any other humans here?"

"Three," the harpy counts on her fingers.

"How could you tell I'm - 'not from here'?"

"Four!" the harpy chirps. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, I think so," you say.

"Good! Then I have four questions about your world in turn. It's only fair, right?"

You nod in agreement.

The harpy smiles, and mimics rolling up imaginary sleeves. The long feathers there don’t serve the illustration. "Alright, for your first and second question - Darkness!"

You frown at her. "Darkness?"

"Darkness!"

"That's it?"

"I can spell it for you? Free of charge!"

You wave your hands. "No, no - just. How does that help?"

"You got here because darkness. You'll leave here because darkness. It's pretty simple, actually," the harpy shrugs, leaning casually on the fabrics on the counter. "Most magic is. I don't get why no one plays with it more."

"Because it is dangerous," Dren says, cutting in. "If you do it wrong, you will end up destroyed."

The harpy winks at him. "You do it right, your life gets so much funnier."

How dreadfully unhelpful. You clear your throat to regain the harpy's attention.

"I've spent a lot of time in darkness these past few days. Nothing has happened," you argue. “So what’s the deal?”

The harpy shakes her head, plumage on her neck puffing out. You can't tell if she's excited or itchy. "Nope! Then you'd be gone again. So you’ve spent time in the dark. There's the dark. And then there's – Darkness," she utters, waving her claws dramatically. "Don't worry. It'll return eventually. Darkness always comes back."

This is a little frustrating. "I don't understand," you let her know.

The harpy nods. "That's reasonable. You're not from around here."

"I don't understand either," Dren counters.

"You don't do that kinda magic," the harpy says, but then stares at him for an odd second. "Huh. Well maybe you can do a little bit of that kind of magic. Like a little treat. It's very vague, but it's there!"

Dren stares at her, all four eyes wide. "I've never-"

"Darkness works towards equilibrium, mostly," the harpy continues her explanation, cutting him off. "No magic in one place, all the magic in another? We sort of balance each other out, and darkness grows in the spaces between us. Your world’s removed, though. And it needs us both to thrive. So, sometimes, it just reaches out, grabs on, and pull-pull-pulls. To sort itself out. It's how most of you humans get here. And it'll be how you get back."

"Grabs and pulls-" you repeat, bewildered. Does that means the dark storm that yanked you through space and time just operates at random? How would that help you get back? "Wha- I didn't do anything to make it take me here! Do I just wait until it randomly decides to take me back? And when would that be? Can’t I like – activate it, or something?"

"If you can attract it, sure," the harpy shrugs, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “Going back to where you first appeared would probably be a good place to do it.”

Apparently done with her part of this, she swiftly moves on: "Third question! The answer is: Yep, there are other humans here."

The whiplash way in which she talks keeps you on your toes. "Really? Where?"

"That's almost five, you know! But you seem nice, so I'll give you this one," the harpy replies. "Like I said, your kind comes and goes all the time. You're the first one I've seen alive in this little corner of the world, though. You’d probably have to go on a trip if you wanted to find another one."

Somehow that alleviates a little bit of the anxiety, despite no one being in your current vicinity. You already knew there were others, but it’s a reassurance none the less that there might be someone else out there in the exact same situation as you. You have an ally in Dren, but no one who'd really understand completely. Finding another human somewhere would certainly bring a lot of peace of mind.

"Four!" the harpy barks. "You're not a sentry, so you must be a human. That one's pretty easy."

You blink. "I - kinda thought they were the same?"

"Blue moons, no!" the harpy laughs. "You, most certainly, are not. You, my otherworldly entity friend, have no magic of your own. None!" she says cheerily, peering at you with interest. "That’s why darkness interacts with you, equilibrium and all that. It's quite fascinating, really.”

"What does non-magic have to do with anything?" Dren supplies your question. “They appear the same to me.”

The harpy looks up at him. "Well, you of all scaredy scaredies should know that, Scary. The bonds you craft for sentries are just that. Magic! The only magic sentries get. Ain’t got it, ain’t a sentry."

So that's how she could tell. Seems it is like a position in a job - you just happen to not have the required qualifications.

Yet.

You quickly strangle the thought. "So I'm not a-?"

"Nope! Well..”

The harpy leans forward and stares into you for an uncomfortable moment. There’s something in her eye then, something that makes your heart rate pick up just a little bit. It’s like something inside you shifts uncomfortably alongside you at her scrutinizing.

“You’re not-,” she starts, grimacing in discomfort. It’s like she’s in pain. “But there’s still something wrong with you. There’s something inside you that might be magic – but it’s unfinished. Very attached, but like it's stuck. It's like a small hitchhiker.”

You can practically feel the ghost of it's usual tightening, like it's simply responding to it's name being called. Morgan has already somewhat explained this to you, but the fact that someone outside can see it, validate it - it's like the doctor finally giving you the words to explain a disease.

Makes it tangible, yes. But also more real.

Dren seems to think so too, from the subtle way his grip on the ground beneath drags claw-marks through the dirt.

“..or a parasite,” you grumble, your thoughts returning to the red-eyed menace and how dreadfully nice their hands on your skin felt. Wait. “Can we make it five?” you ask the harpy. “I just thought of something else.”

“Five whole questions, huh? Your pockets are burning today!” she rubs her chin thoughtfully and hums. “Okay! BUT – I want my fifth question to be answered by Scary.”

Dren folds his arms dismissively. “And what would you gain from that? I’m certain I cannot tell you anything you don’t already know.”

The harpy shakes her head at him. “That’s my concern! Now, will you cover for your human here?”

Dren shrugs and nods. “I will.”

The harpy beams. “Good! So, number five?”

You hesitate a moment, not eager to share this with the harpy with Dren here. He loathes Morgan on a good day, and you’re not sure how he will respond to what you’re about to say. But you also know better than to keep him in the dark -

“Go away for a bit, Scary!” the harpy suddenly chirps, as if reading your mind. She impatiently shoos Dren off with a flick of her wing, and looks at you intently. “This is gonna get spicy.”

This time you don’t hold back and openly scoff at her, but the harpy ignores it.

“Well? Do you want Scary here or not?” she challenges.

Perhaps she has a point. You do probably need to talk openly about this with someone who isn’t Dren. You glance back at him, somewhat apologetically. “Actually-”

He looks reluctant, but shrugs it off easily. “Then I shouldn’t pry. Call me in when she wants to ask me a question.”

He turns and leaves to wait outside.

The harpy waves at him enthusiastically, and turns back to you, eyes full of anticipation. “So~?”

You sigh. “You said there’s something wrong with me, and you’re right. When I clashed with another Drider, they did something to me. They had some sort of – power.”

The harpy leans closer. “Oh? Do elaborate.”

“Like they were trying to lure me in. And – it was like I couldn’t refuse.”

“Couldn’t? Or didn’t want to?” the harpy grins.

You cringe. “I - I don’t know. Dren stopped them, but now – I still keep feeling it. There’s just this constant pull, and I feel like I have to go somewhere. Seek them out again.”

The harpy eyes you sympathetically. “And it’s getting harder to resist?”

You nod. Frankly it’s a little embarrassing, and it doesn't make any sense.

Morgan is not a good person. Abrasive, callous and selfish, they’re a walking red flag waiting to be planted in your skull. They tried to manipulate you and grab you against your will, and would have done so, had Dren not interfered. Parasite or not, why on Earth are you drawn to them like this? “So I want to know for sure; what did they do to me?”

The harpy rests her head in her clawed hands, looking smugly at you. Her demeanor brings to mind an odd resemblance to a school girl indulging in the latest gossip. “They tried to create a bond with you, silly! How nice.”

You scowl at her. “It most certainly was not.”

The harpy chuckles. “Okay, okay! But, yes, that's regular Scary behavior, I’m not really surprised. But since Scary out there made sure they didn’t get to complete what they were doing, that could explain what you’re experiencing now.”

You cog an eyebrow at her, prompting an elaboration. The harpy leans in closer.

“My best guess is a little piece of them stayed behind inside you, and vice versa. That little longing for a safe spot to retreat to? A need to feel loved and cared about?” she grins, and pokes at your chest. “It’s still in there.”

The energy inside you shifts like an affirmation. You feel nauseous.

The harpy watches your discomfort for an uncomfortable moment, like she’s investigating your sensation. She ruffles her feathers, like shaking it off.

She continues: “Scary magic is all about manipulating and trapping emotions. And in many ways, magic IS emotion – but! You don’t have any of that kind. There’s no other magic in you ‘in the way’,” she nods toward Dren outside. “Scary out there has direct access to the core of what makes you – well, You. That’s why you can bond so easily.

"Longing, love, fear – all those things pile up in a neat little bubbles and settles in your heart. They’re just able to weave the threads that captures those bubbles and ties them together. Connects them. Stuck! Like little loving flies.”

Dren did say you’re capable of maintaining a bond no other species can. It seems there's simply nothing in you stopping them from creating one.

Perhaps it’s sensible his kind finds it hard to resist making use of that fact, since you’re the only thing that can ensure they won’t be brutally maimed by most other residents of this world.

“It doesn’t sound like love,” you say pensively, taking it all in. In some way, it doesn’t.

“Maybe not,” the harpy says, studying you. “But a plead to not be lonely? An immense desire to protect, care and provide for? How could it be anything but?”

It ticks the boxes, most definitely. The thing inside you keeps making nauseating turns, and you mentally reach out to Dren again, anything to halt the unpleasant sensation. The pressure is building again, and you feel your body growing anxious, like you have a need to move.

You find to your horror the need has a direction.

"And I can’t do anything to get rid of this," you state, balancing the edge of a pleading question. You clench your clammy hands. "It hurts. All the time."

"I think you already know how to solve the pain," the harpy says, once again gesturing to Dren outside. "But really, you should talk to the ones who actually create the bonds. They'd solve it better than me. Even I can't sever their threads."

"I did. They said the same thing," you mutter. "Until one of us dies, it'll keep going."

"Well then," the harpy grins, tilting her head in a quick motion. "Then one of you just have to die, don't you?"

You also already know how to solve that pain.

"My turn!” the harpy chirps suddenly, once again commanding your attention elsewhere. "1. Where did you first appear when you got here? 2. How much do you have to go back to? 3. What is the most common utility item of your world?"

“Christ, hold on!” you complain, taking a second to re-wire your brain for your end of the bargain. The harpy simply looks at you expectantly, like she didn’t just drop a bomb of info on you you’ve yet to process.

It's not exactly what you expected her to ask. You’d been mentally prepared to maybe explain what a car is, or something. You take some time to think back.

Well, there's the forest you first appeared in. The new area you'd moved to, the rumors that people vanish from that forest. You'd not believed it at first, but it seems now this darkness thing most likely have been to blame.

“Sometimes, they don’t come back,” you echo the warning quietly as you describe to her what happened. “I wonder if anyone’s still looking for me.”

“Not you turn to ask questions!” the harpy reminds you.

You glare at her, reluctantly moving on to the second question. You tell her of your home, feeling a bit of longing for what you're familiar with, friendly faces you miss, a hug from someone dear to you. The pain of not knowing if it's lost forever. The harpy patiently watches you unload it all, wholly focused on your spiel like she's trying to categorize it a special place in her brain.

You realize after a beat it may have turned a bit too personal for your liking in front of this complete stranger, and quickly turn to the third question, something a little safer.

"A phone," you settle on, absentmindedly reaching for it in a jacket pocket that's not there. “It’s a device that allows you to communicate over very, very far distances, written or spoken.”

"Interesting! Do you have one?" the harpy asks excitedly.

You shake your head no. "I dropped it."

The harpy pouts. "What a shame! I would have offered you a good trade for it. Completely non-magic items aren't so easy to come by here, you know?"

"Sorry. It's gone," you shrug. Not that you’d have any particular use for it while you’re here. It's doubtful there's any cell service.

The harpy leans toward you. “4. Do you actually trust Scary out there?”

You look at her in shock. “Of course I do-n't.”

The last part of the word leaves you mouth like it was forced out. Some outside pull yanking at your vocal cords. You grasp at your throat and cough.

The harpy smiles knowingly and laughs. “You can’t lie when we’re doing a bargain, you know. That’s against the rules.”

But it’s not a lie.

You glance at Dren, patiently waiting outside. Of course you trust him, he’s the reason you even got this far. He’s been actively fighting himself since the day you got here, helping you trough this, frankly, crisis situation, despite not owing you anything.

Is this just another one of Morgan's tricks? They’re affecting you this much?

“Can’t say it’s surprising, really,” the harpy says. “They do tend to have that effect on most people. Well, the ones they leave alive, at least. Maybe you'd do well to investigate them a bit more.”

You look back at her, confused.

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Up to you. Now! I’d like to ask my fifth and final question, please.”

She looks beyond you, leaving you to deal with this revelation on your own, cupping her mouth to yell. “Oi, Scary! Get back in here!”

Dren returns, the bags under his eyes seemingly more prominent than they were ten minutes ago. “No need to shout.”

“SO! Fifth question. When your human finally figures out a path away from here, will you let them take it?”

Dren cogs an eyebrow, four eyes blinking at her in succession. “Yes? Of course. I made them a promise.”

"Well then, you've got some strong morals, don't you?" the harpy grins. She winks at you. “Done deal.”

Dren turns to you, ignoring her. "Did you get the information you needed?"

"Somewhat," is your short reply, eyeing the harpy.

She smiles at you. "If you have other questions just come back to see me again! Actually, I think I'll stay around for a bit here. This area just got a lot more interesting."

You’ll slightly hope you won’t need to make use of that.

You say your goodbyes as politely as you can muster, and turn to leave the harpy’s tent. Dren once again reaches over you to open the front, and you step back out into the cool humid autumn you’re accustomed to. You breathe in the fresh air, letting it wash some of the nausea away.

You leave the tent behind with an odd feeling, once again noting the way creatures of folk-lore casually step around you, whenever you pass by. Like you’re seeing it all again for the first time. Strange. Have you stopped to wonder why they’re so afraid of Dren's kind? A wolf-person would certainly be capable of dealing damage, too, so why would a Drider get singled out?

You glance up at Dren walking calmly next to you. Him, with all the capability in the world to crush you. You, trusting that he won’t. Is that the kind of love Morgan was talking about?

You leave the marketplace soon after before activity gets rambunctious and Morgan gets any ideas to make things worse. Other than the uncomfortable churning inside you, you haven’t seen the shadow of them today, fortunately.

“What do you want to do now?” Dren asks you once you’re safely obscured by the forest, on the road back to his home.

You mull it over. “I want to go back to the place where I first appeared here,” you tell him, feeling the thoughts click into place. “I think I may have an idea.”

“Oh?” Dren inquires.

“Darkness, and my ticket home, is attracted to non-magic items, right?” you elaborate. “Well, I just happen to have lost one of those not far from where you and I first met.”

“..I see,” Dren says, slightly hesitantly. He rights himself, perhaps shaking off the experience with the Harpy. “What are we looking for?”

#colderwriting #happy holidays everyone <3 #man I've missed this #drider x you #monster x reader #drider #drider x reader #uv #terato #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human

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